Release
by feelingtwofootsmall
Summary: The Doctor has a problem, and he hates the way he has to deal with it. Rated for explicit-ish sexual situation. 9/Jack/Rose  no threesome . Warning: my first time writing *smut*. Don't like, don't read.


Warning: rated for explicit-ish sexual content. No slash, but there is definitely smut. If you don't like that sort of thing, don't read it. If you do, this is my first ever attempt at smut, it took me all night, and I'm not planning on writing a lot more. Thanks!

Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't want to. The power would be all-consuming.

A/N: Fun fact! It is four in the morning and I stayed up all night perfecting this to some degree. As always, no betas, and my first attempt at smut. I would love some pointers, as I am a girl and a virgin and have no experience with this sort of thing. Reviews help encourage me to keep writing, and mad crazy awesome thanks to everyone's who's reviewed before. Love ya!

The Doctor slammed the door to his bedroom and leaned against it, breathing deeply as though he had been running. That had been so close. She couldn't know. Let her have Jack. They are suited to each other, he thought bitterly. Beautiful people with interesting morals. He had at least made sure that Rose was distracted by the captain before he had made excuses to slip away. Well, it was more like sprinting than slipping. It wasn't just the running that was making him light-headed, however. That had started a bit before. The Doctor threw himself onto his bed, trying desperately to ignore the ache in his groin, willing it to shrink and disappear. It didn't work, as he knew it wouldn't have; if anything, it grew worse.

He had run away from Jack and Rose, knowing that if they so much as got a glimpse of the bulge in his trousers, it was good bye Doctor. Jack would no doubt suggest something randy, but that was the least of his troubles. She couldn't see. She'd understand, and it would ruin everything. If he was being honest with himself (as he seldom was), Rose was his best friend and he didn't want to lose her. Even if it meant pretending to be "just friends" for the rest of this lifespan, he would do it to keep her. The Doctor knew he couldn't go any farther with Rose, but he still thought about it late at night when he couldn't sleep. These days, all he dreamed about were the Time War and Rose. Nightmares and fantasies.

Now, however, he had a more pressing concern presented by this situation. Fairly soon, he would have to go back out there with his companions and fly the TARDIS. At the very least they would expect to see him in an hour. But she couldn't know. If he was sure about one thing besides his total grief over Gallifrey, it was that Rose could not and would not find out about his attraction. It shouldn't have been hard, either. But she had taken him by surprise after that last adventure, had thrown her arms around him in joy and relief, and he hadn't been able to let her go. He had only just made it to his room afterwards- everything she did seemed to arouse him now. Rose was too innocent. He couldn't dirty her in that way, and he should have been able to stop. But now it was inevitable, something needed to be done about his arousal. If the Doctor was to face his friends any time soon, this minor problem needed to be taken care of.

He half-heartedly tried to will it to die, but with a sigh the Doctor realized that his erection wasn't going away. Cursing mentally in Gallifreyan, he tried to think of ways to rectify the situation while ignoring the obvious. He came up with the idea of wearing baggy pants, but he knew, with a sinking feeling, what he had to do. And he loathed himself for it. Biting down hard on his lower lip, the Doctor unbuttoned his trousers and had to fight to keep from moaning as his hard member rubbed slightly against his boxers, asking for release. It was with a moan that he removed both his layers and grasped himself in hand. He hated this. But he couldn't stop now.

He closed his eyes and began to stroke himself, softly at first, then the pace increasing as his breaths grew shorter. Imagine they were Rose's hands, quick and warm and clever. She was pulling at him, teasing him. Imagine how her hair looks disheveled and the smell of her hot skin. The Doctor moaned low in his throat, a primal sound of pleasure, and began to thrust longer and with more friction into his hand. Half of the intensity was anger. For himself and the act he was performing and the fact that he was sullying her image by imagining her hands doing magical things to him. He slowed down, stopped, forcing himself to think of the most hideous aliens imaginable, but he was beyond the point of no return. If he expected to make it out of his room without his friends becoming suspicious, the Doctor needed to do this now. Even when his hand did not move and create friction, his cock grew harder and more strained with every thought of Rose, her lips, and her hair, and her fingers… God, her fingers.

He started up again, tugging and stroking at his member, repressing the tremors through his body and biting back the moans that threatened to slip through his lips. Heat pooled enormously in his stomach, and his breathing grew labored as he picked up the pace, still thinking of Rose as he squeezed himself. His hips began to buck unwillingly off the bed, thrusting deep into his own hand as he methodically stroked and flicked and teased. Rassilon, but that felt good. He hadn't experienced this type of pleasure for a while, but his hands were still as experienced, and he felt himself on the edge of collapse. He needed more friction. He rubbed circles around his tip with the other hand, pounded unthinkingly into the first hand and let the sensations build gloriously as he focused on her, her smile and her tongue and her lips. He knew the thoughts were perverse and horrible, but his mind had gone in some reckless abandon and he liked it, gasping roughly with each thought of Rose. His body shook with the intensity of the feelings, his eyes squeezed shut and he was pounding harder and faster and harder and harder and pressure built as his eyes rolled back and- he felt the sweet release as his orgasm washed over him, exploding over the sheets and his hands and his mind. It sent him into ecstasies of pleasure, the waves rocking his body until he shuddered even more. He screamed Rose's name as he came, though the Doctor was quite unsure whether it was in his mind or aloud. He fell back onto the bed and panted.

Holding his now-limp cock in hand, the Doctor assessed the damage.

Besides the deep and abiding disgust he felt with himself, there appeared to be no emotional scarring- not that he would have expected there to be any. It might be one of the first times with this body, but he wasn't new to pleasuring himself by any means. He particularly hated it now, but he could put those thoughts temporarily from his mind. The thick milky-white of his seed was beginning to dry on his hand and the sheets, and on his denim jeans, so the Doctor saw a change of clothing to be appropriate. It had been a while since these things needed considering.

He had spent the last few minutes contemplating on his shamefulness and letting the last delicious murmurs of pleasure run over him, trickle warmly through his fingers. He also thought deeply about how to ask the TARDIS to wash the sheets without giving anything away. All of these things were running through the Doctor's mind when Captain Jack barreled in through the door.

"Hey Doc," he began, "We were jus-" The next words never left the Time Agent's mouth when he saw the state the Doctor was in. A slow smile spread across his face, while the Doctor merely sat paralyzed and partially terrified at the thought of Jack (of all men) finding him in this situation. Jack, the tactless sex addict.

"Well Doc," Jack laughed, "I can see you've been busy." He raised his eyebrows suggestively and flicked his eyes all over the Doctor's lower body, taking in the flaccid length of him. Jack smiled again and laughed, more heartily this time. "Didn't know you had it in ya." In an instant, the Doctor was on his feet, grabbing Jack's shirt with his still-sticky hand.

"You do not laugh about this," he snarled, "You devalue things. Stop laughing!" All the anger and self-deprecation he had felt was now directed at Jack, the other man's nose only an inch away from his own. "Do you understand? This means something, Jack. And you do not, under any circumstances, tell her about this." Rose could not know his weakness. She would not know his weakness. He should have known Jack was just another stupid ape, but he had nowhere to drop him off, no planet to strand him back on. He was stuck with Jack, and that meant that Jack was stuck with his secret. The Doctor could not have said why he was so adamant about the self-disgust or the secrecy, but he felt it was of great importance.

Jack swallowed hard and tried not to laugh at the half-naked figure in front of him. This was quite homoerotic.

"You're good, Doc. Secret's safe with me, like they say. I won't mention it again. Didn't happen, as far as I'm concerned. I'll just… go now." The Doctor unwrapped his hand from the front of Jack's shirt and took a step back. His blue eyes showed shame and a deep, pooling anger at his own weakness.

"Now," he said, his voice dangerously quiet, "Get out." The captain quickly complied, closing the door politely behind himself as he went. As soon as his companion's footsteps were out of the Doctor's hearing range, the Time Lord rushed to the dresser for a fresh pair of briefs and jeans. He rolled the sheets up into a rough ball, hoping that maybe the ship would take a hint. It only took him a few minutes to wash all traces of his recklessness from his skin, and no one but he and Jack would know what had just occurred. At least Jack didn't know the specifics: the Doctor shuddered at the thought. Now, it was time for him to fly the TARDIS, or land it, and he had to face Rose, and what if they were out of milk again? This was getting much too domestic for his tastes. But he would try to keep Rose, selfishly, for as long as he possibly could, even if it meant brief and angry interludes like that of a few minutes before.

The Doctor stepped out of his bedroom, making sure to go a round-about way to the kitchen, where he knew Jack and Rose would be found. He purposefully made it hard to tell what direction he was coming from, as if Rose would even notice or care. Through a few corridors and short-cut doors, he arrived jauntily in the kitchen with a trademark grin on his lips.

"Hey," Rose said, barely looking up from the card castle she and Jack were building on the table. "What've you been doing?" She gave him a sideways grin, and the Doctor mentally shuddered at what his mind had done to her. He made an attempt to grin goofily.

"You know, been in the library. Being a genius." Rose snorted.

"Yeah, I'm sure." The Doctor threw Jack a panicked glance, wondering if he'd told her anything, but Jack just looked back at him, an almost imperceptible shrug on his shoulders. The Time Lord breathed a sigh of relief, and was about to grab a banana from the basket when Rose suddenly seized his arm, holding him in place with her eyes.

"Doctor?" He felt a thrill of excitement run through his stomach, settling as apprehension.

"Yes, Rose?"

"If you take one more step, the castle will fall down. You'd better sit down." With some effort, the Doctor rolled his eyes and laughed.

"So, according to you two, I'm stuck here between you all night?" His companions nodded in unison, and the Doctor groaned. This night would pass fine, and others after it, but he wasn't sure how long it would take before he snapped again. He tried not to focus on the smell of Rose's hair and braced himself for a long night ahead.

FIN.


End file.
